


Rest easy, I'm sorry

by eclipse447



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arguing, Blood, Death, Established Relationship, GEORGE IS A BITCH, Ghost Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Ghosts, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Murder, Pain, Violence, angst with a sad end, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:40:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse447/pseuds/eclipse447
Summary: Dream leaves their apartment during an argument with George, and his bad day gets considerably worse.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	Rest easy, I'm sorry

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not that happy with this one but eh. because of this I didn't edit it properly lol
> 
> this one kinda sad so prepare for that too
> 
> enjoy :)

Dream sat on the floor, staring into space with his back against the bedside table and facing away from George. He kept his knees pulled to his chest, making himself as small as possible. The older lay in their shared bed, covers pulled up to his knees as he mindlessly scrolls on his phone. He lay on his right side, legs parted sporadically, body facing the wall and back facing Dream. His brown hair was messy and unkempt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. He felt somewhat guilty for his actions earlier, but his mind was still clouded and he wanted Dream to apologise first. Of course, he knew he should apologise for everything he’d done, but he was petty. He assumed that this would be like any other one of their fights, and they would forgive and forget later, knowing they didn’t mean what they said. Or, George didn’t mean what he said. Internally, he knew Dream did nothing wrong but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The two had been fighting earlier, and Dream went for a walk to calm down and in hopes of de-escalating the situation. However George never did calm down, and the bubbling anger of unsaid words still lived inside. The usually relaxed and calm brunette was ugly when they argued, and this time was no different. Normally, it was just loud shouts and weak insults. Normally, Dream could calm him down easily and everything would be fine. However this time was different. George had had a tough day and he snapped at his boyfriend. The blonde was forced to leave once George got physical, throwing punches and spouting hurtful insults that he knew would hurt the younger, digging into his insecurities. The blonde raced out the door, blinking back tears and ignoring the burning pain in his heart. While he waited, the older got more and more worked up, resulting in a short temper and 0 patience. So when Dream returned several hours later, once the sky had darkened, George ignored him, not even making eye contact with the younger. Dream didn’t speak either, breathing abnormally quiet.

_ He shouldn’t have let him leave.  _

The only noise in the room was Georges breathing and a soft and inconsistent snapping noise that was slowly irritating the older. The more he would try to forget about it and focus on scrolling through Twitter, the louder it seemed to get. It added an uneasy feeling to the already stressed-out male. He sat up, propped up on his elbow and twisted to look at his boyfriend, who was fidgeting with his fingers anxiously, cracking them every so often. The male was zoned out. Staring straight ahead with what seems to be distress in his eyes, but George shrugs it off.

“Dream,” George growled with a lot more malice than intended, watching the younger flinch but not turning around. “Can you quit it?”

The older just nods, not saying a word and continuing to stare, placing his hands on his knees. George rolls his eyes at the response but nonetheless sets it aside. He lays back down, now facing Dream’s direction but still not looking at him. 

“Can you grab my water for me?” George asks suddenly, too preoccupied with his phone to get it himself. He hears the younger sigh loudly, George rolling his eyes. It was a seemingly simple request, all he wanted was his water bottle from the bedside table that Dream was leaning against. A moment of silence follows.

“No George, I can’t,” Dream's voice is barely a whisper. George groans slamming his phone into the covers and snatching his water bottle from the bedside table. Dream visibly tensed up.

“Why can’t you be helpful for one second,” he mutters under his breath, repositioning himself back on the bed comfortably. 

“What?” Dream’s heart tears in two, his eyes glossing over.

“You heard me Dream. I’ve had a long day and you can’t even help me when you’re sitting right there,” Dream scoffs at this, covering up for the tears threatening to fall.

“You’ve had a tough day huh? That makes two of us,” Dream retorts, not receiving a reply from the older man. This hurts him, it hurts him so much. The way George is acting is like getting stabbed all over again, except this hurts more.

Dream lets a single tear roll down his face as he reflects on Georges earlier rant, the brunette thankfully continued avoiding eye contact. He wipes it away before it falls too far. Not that it would matter. He’d been overthinking about this all day, then  _ that  _ happened and all he wanted to do was see George. And this was how he was treated. George grabs the water bottle again, tossing in at Dream without a second thought, not acknowledging how it hits the ground, passing straight through the blonde. Dream just watches with dead eyes.

_ He doesn’t even realise.  _

Dream rubs his stomach instinctively, grazing over the large rough patch, causing him more anguish. He retracts his hand quickly, as though he had touched fire, muffling a whimper. Now George looks up, eyes hard as they locate the issue, however, they soften upon seeing the state of his boyfriend. Every ounce of anger evaporates instantly, once he sees the blonde curled in on himself, shaking and crying.

“Dream, hey I’m sorry, that was too harsh,” he reaches out towards Dream, offering a hand. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been awful to you today,” Dream flinches, scrambling out of George’s reach. He’s not ready to confront the elephant in the room yet, but after seeing the hurt on the brunette's face, he starts to reconsider. However, when George mumbles a soft “alright suit yourself,” before unlocking his phone once more, he lets a breath go. 

He sits still, trying to calm the tears leaking from his eyes, disappearing before they hit the floor. After a moment of silence, he stands, catching Georges gaze away from his phone for a split second before returning to his device. Dream glides over to the right side of the bed, carefully sitting down without creating so much as a dip in the mattress, almost as though he was floating. Dream tosses up his next words, resuming his curled up position on the bed and deciding the best way to break the news he had yet to accept to himself.

“George, are you- I have something to say,” George turns over to face Dream, sitting up to match eyes level, except Dream looks right past him, eyes numb. George shivers, feeling cold suddenly.

“So uh, while I was out, um,” he hesitates, taking a deep breath despite him not needing to. “I met someone.”

George’s eyes widen, picking up on the implications and panic filling his chest. Dream notices this, stuttering out some ‘no no’s.

“No, not that, it’s just,” his lips press into a line, George figuring that he’s having a hard time saying whatever he needs to. “I just needed to come home, I still haven’t fully processed what happened.” Now all the worst scenarios are running through his head, and he reaches out to touch Dream for comfort, the other shaking his head. He just needed to say it.

“I’m not even real Georgie,” Dream’s face is painted with an unreadable emotion, eyes seeming almost empathetic. George’s eyebrows furrow, looking over his boyfriend.

“Of course you’re...” he reaches out to touch the blonde, watching his hand fall onto the cool sheets, “..real” he finishes slowly. 

Dream smiles sadly, eyes full of pain as he watches George’s face twist, recalling the events of today and attempting to piece together the puzzle. After waiting a moment for George to return to consciousness, he grows impatient, breaking eye contact and fiddling with his hoodie strings, even attempting to grab things from the room. He wants to convince himself he’s still there, that nothing happened. While George sorts through his mind to accept what happened himself, Dream didn’t want to add any more pressure to that. He had to stay strong for George.

_ Dream mumbles helplessly against the gag, practically on his knees begging. And he would be if not for the restraints around his ankles and wrist. The thought of George waiting for someone who would never come home plagued his mind. He can’t believe the terms things would end on. _

_ “You’re too important to keep around, and I’ll get paid so much for this kill,” Dreams whole body is trembling, and he thrashes against the restraints, screaming and praying that someone will hear him. However, the cloth in his mouth muffled the noise, and he was just wasting his voice, but he didn’t care. All his survival instincts kicked in and he was helplessly flopping against the wall. His kidnapper stared on in amusement, a sick smile plastered on his face. What the famous YouTuber didn’t expect when he left the argument in his home was to get jumped by a large man in all black on his trip, beat up, tied up and pulled into an apartment. So here he was, tied up and at the mercy of some thug. _

_ “It’s been an honour Dream,” Dream’s breath catches in his throat at the small-ish axe the man revealed, flipping it for Dream to admire. It was cleaning and shiny, like it had just been cleaned. The man held it up in front of his eyes, letting Dream see his own reflection, the sweat dripping down his face and his messy blonde hair. His eyes widen when the man aims the axe to his stomach, and swings back, gaining a ridiculous amount of momentum for such an area, and bringing the axe down into the blonde’s stomach. He cries out, listening to the man's chuckles and feeling liquid trickle down his legs. A metallic taste fills his mouth, soaked up by the gag. The man pulls out his phone, and Dream hears the camera sound go off, but he can’t bring himself to care. There's a ringing in his ears and he feels nothing. Not until the adrenaline wears off and the man has left, leaving him to feel... everything. _

Dream shivers at the part of the story George didn’t know, nor did he ever wish for him to know. The blonde wishes that the rumours about death were true. That once you met your end, you forgot everything. Instead, he has to continue on with the knowledge of his awful death. 

Only now does George notice the slight transparency in his boyfriend, but the way he absent-mindedly goes to grab the sheets, only for his hand to fall through. Dream doesn’t notice George’s stares, sighing disappointedly as his failed attempt to heat himself up. George feels an immense guilt bubble in his stomach, watching the young man become frustrated at his lack of grip. Easily and after not much effort, he gives up, shoulder slumping forward and his head drooping down.

“You never came home tonight,” George says finally, jaw slightly dropped in shock. “I never heard the front door open.” Dream just nods, staying slumped over like a forgotten rag doll. There silence for a while, with George trying to guess what happened without actually asking his boyfriend. Thousands of scenarios run through his mind, but unbeknownst to him, they were all too far off.

“It’s really cold George,” George’s heart tears right there and then. Dream spoke those words quietly, in a similar tone to a child who just got his toy taken away. Remorseful, regretful, he couldn’t tell. The reality sets in for George that he can do nothing to help. Nothing to warm the other up, not even touch him, and that pains George so much more than any bad day could. He stares at Dream, eyes piercing into the shaking boy, however, George feels the shakes aren’t from the cold. He lets his eyes run up and down the boy, noticing how small he looks with his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth slightly. The younger straightens his knees, still shaking and sits slightly hunched over. The rapid trembling has subsided, only a few spaced out shivers continue. George takes a moment to examine him properly for the first time that night, eyes widening in horror at the large bloodstain on Dreams front. Of course, he’d seen it earlier that night, but for whatever reason, he didn't pay it much mind. Now that he’s looking closer, the dark stain covers most of the blonde’s stomach.

“Dream I,” the younger looks up, breaking George’s heart with a saddened gaze, “I’m so sorry I yelled at you.”

He decides that maybe he shouldn’t bring it up. With that much blood, it can’t be something he’d want to talk about. He prays to anyone who would listen that the death was quick and painless, instant even. He hoped his boyfriend didn’t suffer knowing that George was furious at him, enough so that he had to leave the house. If George didn’t snap, Dream wouldn’t have left.  _ It’s his fault.  _ His face drops at the realisation, Dream obviously picking up on his change in demeanour. Dream was always the best at reading emotions out of the two of them.

“It’s not your fault Georgie,” Dream lies through his teeth. Dream may not believe it’s a lie, but George does. He knows what happened was his fault, and he could never forgive himself. He doubted the blonde would either. A question sits on the tip of George's tongue before George says screw it and asks.

  
“Was it, at least,” he pauses, trying to find the right words under the curious gaze of the ghost. “Quick?” Dream smiles softly, turning his head away from George to resume staring at the wall. Slowly and subtly, Dream shakes his head, and the brunette wants to throw up. Dream had  _ suffered  _ while he wallowed in his own self-pity at home in the warm. He sat on the bed like a ticking time bomb while Dream had to sit in a cold, dark alleyway and  _ feel  _ everything that happened. He had to endure every ounce of pain that was caused, and judging by the amount of blood on the others hoodie, he can safely assume it hurt a lot.

“Dream I really am sorry,” and with his voice packed with sincerity, he meant it. He was truly sorry for what he caused since technically, it was his fault. He caused Dream to leave because he couldn’t control his temper, and he would forever feel guilty for it. The remorse that sat in his stomach made him nauseous, bile rising in his throat. Plus, with the new information, it made him feel even worse. The room remains silent for an eternity until Dream breaks it.

“I forgive you George,” and Dream means it. George refuses to turn over to look at the younger, afraid of what he’ll see. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened was inevitable.” Dream reassures, but he knows George doesn’t believe him. George curses Dream’s soft voice, doing it’s best to comfort George when it should be the other way around. But once again, George is too selfish to care about anyone but himself. The ghost sighs, laying flat on his back, hands across his chest and staring unfocused at the ceiling. If the blonde was being honest, he truly did forgive George. What happened could have been avoided, yes, however, he would never blame George for it. He could never blame George for anything. He loved him too much. Dream feels a slight tingling in his chest, running down his arms and legs after a moment. He shrugs it off, sucking in a breath. 

“I love you, George,” Dream exhales, keeping his eyes trained on the roof. The blonde begins to feel lighter and confusion overtakes him. After a few short-lived seconds of embracing the airy feeling, he puts two and two together and realises what's happening. He turns over to look at George (the man facing the other way), then to his hands, eyes widening. A double-take at his hands and a wave of dread lay on his shoulders.

Then the panic sets in. “George say it back, please George,” however the brunette doesn’t budge, keeping his eyes focused on the wall ahead of him. “George please, I’m begging you. George!” His voice is full of panic, loud and stressed. George has never heard the other this panicked before, and it leads him to wonder how he acted when he met his demise. Ignoring the desperate pleas from the ghost, he lets his thoughts wander to how Dream met his end. As much as it pains him to think about, he wished it was fast. Dream at least deserves that much, but of course, the universe doesn’t care what anyone deserves.

George scrunches his eyes shut, trying to block out the pleads. It hurts too much to listen to, the guilt forcing him to keep his eyes shut tightly. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he can’t bear to look. “George!” After one final shout, the room goes uncomfortably silent, and George feels a cold shiver run down his spine. After a moment of heavy breathing from the brunette and built up tears in his closed eyes, he opens them. The already created tears fall once they open, and he lets his eyes adjust to the room. It seems darker, more empty.  _ Oh.  _ George's anxiety skyrockets as he flips over to face his lover.

Dream was gone, a yellow rose taking his place.

**Author's Note:**

> yellow roses symbolise forgiveness :,)
> 
> if you have any requests let me know!!


End file.
